


Holding

by Kikimay



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Auror Harry Potter, Community: hd_erised, Established Relationship, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Marriage, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Oral Sex, Post-Hogwarts, a ragdoll cat named hera
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2019-01-26 20:09:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12565220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kikimay/pseuds/Kikimay
Summary: "I'm glad you're home," Draco whispered, diving his nose in the hollow of his husband's neck, letting his trembling hands travel from his shoulders to the narrow hips, pretending not to recognise the smell of blood.Harry saves people, Draco can save him.





	Holding

**Author's Note:**

  * For [winkola](https://archiveofourown.org/users/winkola/gifts).



> Dear Winkola, you asked for a story dealing with the struggles in a long-running established relationship. I was glad to having the chance to develop this concept, since it's something that fascinates me greatly. I tried to do my best and I hope you'll enjoy the result. Many thanks to my beta P, for her careful work.

Draco Malfoy was snoring softly. He had been sitting in an armchair beside his bedroom window for the best part of the night, staring out at the high trees shaken by the wind, and had finally fallen asleep with one side of his face pressed against the cold windowpane, a handwritten note tightly wrinkled inside his fist and a Ragdoll cat staring at him with her all-searching blue eyes. 

A loud pop woke him up suddenly and Draco almost crashed his nose against the windowpane. The cat jumped on the carpet. 

"Hera please, no need to run away!" he groaned, still mostly asleep. "I'm sorry!" 

The cat stared at him thoughtfully, then flew to the other room. Draco sighed. He brushed his long hair off his face and fixed his robes, before going downstairs and opening the kitchen backdoor. Hera sneaked between his legs. 

He walked towards the end of the garden, searching for his husband's silhouette. He spotted him, immersed in the fog, among the willow branches kneeling to the cold wind. Surrounded by a cloud of vapor, Harry looked almost like a ghostly vision with his unruly hair sticking everywhere and his bright red jacket. He moved towards him, every step marked by the noise of breaking leaves. 

His husband greeted him with an exhausted smile, arms outstretched and Auror uniform slightly wet on his shoulder, dirty with something that looked like mud in the darkness of the garden.

"Is that …"

"Nothing," Harry replied, pulling him closer. "That's nothing," he repeated, suppressing a wince. 

"I'm glad you're home," Draco whispered, diving his nose in the hollow of his husband's neck, letting his trembling hands travel from his shoulders to the narrow hips, pretending not to recognise the smell of blood. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you too. Let's get inside, we don't have much time."

*

In the bathroom, Harry leaned against white sink with a groan.

"I should take you to the Healer…" Draco murmured, entering the room with freshly cleaned towels. 

"Please don't. I just need to take off this uniform and have a nice shower. Can you help me?"

Draco approached his husband. The mirror was reflecting their pale, tired faces; his worried frown and Harry's stubborn grimace. He whispered a spell that instantly unbuttoned the red jacked and helped it slip from the Auror's shoulders. He tried to press gently on Harry's body, as painless as possible, as he helped him with the shoes, the trousers and the shirt. 

An enormous violet and brown hematoma was darkening the skin around his right hip bone up to his ribs. He held his breath apprehensively. 

"You should see the other guy," Harry joked. "That's nothing serious, really. They wouldn't allow me to go home if it was." 

"Hm… Should I trust the Aurors more or less, after what you just said?"

"Hopefully more. I really just need a shower." 

Draco nodded. He grabbed the dirty clothes on the floor and flicked his wand to start the warm shower. Harry kissed him gratefully and took a few calculated steps to the box. 

"Just in case you slip in there and break your neck, let us agree that I told you so!"

"Of course you did, love. Of course." 

*

Draco was sitting on his bed, petting the pillows to softness and staring at the Auror robes floating mid-air and gracefully gliding on the armchair. Harry was still in the bathroom, washing himself up. There was a lot of blood on his uniform and so much dirt. 

He took a deep, calming breath, and heard the bathroom door open to reveal his husband stepping out. 

"Welcome back," he greeted. "How are the healing properties of the shower working on your battle wounds?" 

"Amazingly," Harry grinned, walking towards him. "Your ointment is helping too." 

Draco pressed his lips in an unsatisfied grimace, turned his head around when Harry tried to kiss him. 

"Don't do that, please. I only have a few hours to spend with you." 

"I told you not to go, but you didn't listen to me, Harry." 

"I had to! I couldn't let the..." the Auror bit back a reply and chose to press a soft kiss on his husband's temple instead. "I missed you greatly these past few days," he whispered, stroking his bony cheek. "Couldn't sleep without the weight of your head on my chest." 

The confession soothed Draco's belligerent attitude for a moment. Draco closed his eyes, allowing the gently caress to continue. Then he jumped up on his feet. 

"Bloody… _Draco!_ " 

"You're going to need a restorative potion," Draco replied, walking towards the cabinet, opening drawers to find little glass bottles. "If you're going to heal yourself at home, at least do it properly," he said, slamming the phials on top of the cabinet. 

"I'm going to drink them all, but stop being a prat." 

"I'm still angry at you, you know that?" 

"I got the message." 

"Good," Draco sighed, closing the drawers and releasing the tension that held his fists together. 

Harry approached him cautiously from behind. He outstretched his hands with deliberate slowness until finally laying them on Draco's hips. He checked his husband's breathing, waiting to feel him more relaxed, then took a step forward and let his head rest between Draco's shoulder blades. He breathed in. 

"I worry about you." 

"I know you do," Harry murmured, pressing a kiss against the fabric of the cardigan, his fingers crawling up from Draco's hips to his chest and then back to his navel, sneaking under the waistband. 

"We are such different individuals, maybe we are just too different to…"

"Stop," Harry commanded, his warm breath on the back of Draco's neck, his lips and teeth pressed on pale skin until it was reddened and rough, and hardly suppressed moans were filling the air. "Stop talking. I'm going to fuck you now." 

Draco nodded. He spread his fingers on the surface of the drawer, then turned around to kiss his husband's lips, gripping his hair and feeling him quiver and tremble because of his touch. He took a breath and stared into the dark green eyes covered by glasses askew. 

Harry raised his chin and kissed him again with tearful tenderness. He hissed when Draco pressed his fingers to his wounded side. The hematoma was still there, all broken veins and violated skin. 

"You're still sore. Maybe we shouldn't…"

"Nonsense," Harry kissed back with renewed vigor. 

He helped Draco get on the bed, hands and knees, trousers and pants slipping from his legs, cardigan raised up to show the perfect globes of the white milky arse that Harry bit and licked and kissed until all resistance was crumbled and his husband was just a sobbing mess buried among pillows. He grabbed a handful of his long blond hair and pushed inside in one shallow thrust. 

Draco suppressed a scream. He felt the softening of Harry's grasp, the sudden stillness of his body. He turned his face to the side, mouth open and red, eyes wet with unleashed tears. Harry was staring at him, full of concern. 

"Go on," he moaned, grabbing the hand on his hip and rocking back. "Don't be afraid, go on…" His husband hesitated for a moment, before bending forward to press a kiss on his back. "Fuck me hard, Harry." 

*

When Draco woke up, the other side of the bed was already freezing cold. He patted the mattress and searched for the covers he must have pushed away. He tried to get back to sleep, but a loud meowing and the maddening pinch of the cardigan on his chest roused him up for good. 

He tossed the cardigan on the floor and searched for a softer shirt and jumper, grabbing a pair of briefs and some worn out pyjama bottoms on the way. 

In the kitchen, Hera was waiting for him, meowing loudly and long. 

"Spoiled kitty," Draco whispered fondly and kneeled to fill the empty bowl on the floor. He looked at the water next to it and decided to change it as well, putting it back beside the cat now silently munching her meal after cleaning the container. 

Hera was chewing with such enthusiasm it made Draco grin. 

"You like that, don't you?" he murmured, stroking the cat's downy fur. "You do." 

Hera raised her blue eyes for a moment, before turning her full attention back to the food. Draco stood up and washed his hands on the kitchen sink. He was opening a shelf to get some tea when the shiny, floating otter arrived. 

*

Despite the urgent summon, he took his time to enjoy a shower, dry and comb his hair in a braid embellished with silver laces, choose the right suit to wear—blue with a jade waistcoat. 

Ever since he had obtained his job as a solicitor for the Ministry, he had always been keen on presenting himself with impeccable care. That determination made his detractors red with anger, and Draco enjoyed the feeling of secretly beating the ones who wanted to see him overwhelmed with shame, crushed by the weight of the past, less self-confident, less of a Malfoy. 

Walking through the long dark corridor, he searched for a large wooden door. It was beautifully carved, with moving dragons and other obscure animals in it. He pushed in and entered the Minister for Magic's office. 

Hermione Granger was sitting behind her desk, surrounded by overzealous counselors talking to each other and Ronald Weasley, her faithful husband, standing behind her. 

"…There he is. Draco, we've been waiting for you!"

"Of course he needed to get his hair done first," Ron muttered under his breath. "Priorities." 

"Of course I did," Draco replied, raising his middle finger. "Good morning to you too, Weasley." 

Hermione rolled her eyes. 

"For Godric's sake! You two… stop it now!" she warned. "Percy, can you update Draco on the current situation?" 

"Auror Potter returned to the secure location at five in the morning, as expected. The refuge was guarded by the Aurors, civilians were safe inside. We still need to hear reports of what happened and why exactly it did happen, but… someone must have tampered with the security spells and allowed the werewolves inside." 

"What?" 

"The werewolves entered the castle," Percy continued, breathing in. "Harry and the others managed to send them off, but there were casualties. A member of the team and three civilians." 

"But Harry…"

"Harry's fine," Hermione replied. "He kicked out the killers and reinforced the protective spells. He's in the castle now, with the others, surrounded by enemies." 

"We need to rescue him!" Draco yelled, clenching his fists. "We need to rescue him immediately! Harry was already wounded when he came home last night, he was… he won't be able to face combat alone." 

"Harry is not alone. His team is with him and we are sending more Aurors just now, but…" 

"But what? What's more important than his safety?" 

Ron leaned forward, put a hand on his wife's shoulder and stared at Draco with firm determination and compassion. He knew how Draco hated to look weak in front of his colleagues. 

"Harry doesn't want to leave," he explained. "Not until he can bring back the Auror's body, he's… he's still outside the safe grounds, at the mercy of the werewolves. He's Padma Patil's son, Ritchie." 

"And so what?" Draco sneered back. "Order him to come back!" 

Ron's expression became harder, less compassionate. 

"It's Padma's boy. We saw him walking in Diagon Alley the day he bought his wand, we saw him learning Quidditch and being sorted in Gryffindor like his aunt. Harry trained him, loved him." 

"And now he's dead and I fail to see why I should lose a husband because of that." 

Draco's voice was broken, but his eyes were ablaze with rage and concern. He had no time for Gryffindor morale. 

"All right, all right! You both have a point," Hermione said promptly. "We can't leave behind the body of a fallen Auror, but we can't endanger more lives because of that. Draco," she added, turning to the solicitor. "You can't possibly believe I would let Harry get hurt. You know me better than that. We need a very good plan, now." 

*

The following hours passed in a fog of commands, muttered expletives and nerve-wracking tension. The Minister used all her intelligence and Draco worked as mediator and tactician. He contacted the local wizards, insisted on their duty to work for the safety of their people and the Aurors who came to protect them. He was, at times, tender and compassionate, hard and inflexible. Everything to ensure Harry would be safe. 

Every now and then, when he felt too exhausted to abstain from cursing people to death, he turned his gaze on Hermione Granger, the pillar of the Ministry, Harry's own anchor during his years at Hogwarts. He understood why his husband felt so comforted in having her near, both her and her husband Ronald. 

In those moments, Draco felt an inconfessable envy for them. Envy for the woman who had her husband so close and safe, envy for their silent communication, for their communion of intents. Despite their obvious differences, they were very similar at core, they perceived reality in the same way and shared the need to make the world a better place. 

Biting his lips, he felt jealousy too, for the two friends who were closer to Harry in a way he could never have been. The two other sides of Harry's soul. 

"Draco, is everything okay?" Hermione asked him, gently, kindly. 

He nodded and went back to work. 

The situation began to improve in the afternoon. Around sunset, the survivors and rescued civilians were all taken to a safe haven, their protection guaranteed by the local authorities, and the werewolves were captured, except the two that escaped. The Auror team returned to the Ministry. 

They appeared among the floo green flames, one by one, carrying the fallen comrade wrapped in white sheets. At last, Harry appeared too. 

*

"I don't want to go home. I just need to shower and change." 

Harry took off his jacket in front of the unforgiving mirror, reflecting every scratch and bruise on his skin. A Healer had been summoned by Hermione, who was examining her friend. Ron was off to get food and water. 

They were in the Minister's private office. Draco was leaning against the door, unable to move or speak, immobilized by a cold feeling inside his chest. He wanted to run to Harry, to tear him apart from everyone else and claim him as his own. He couldn't. 

"They hit you badly," Hermione whispered. "Oh Harry, you should really go home and rest!" 

"No need," he replied with half smile. He didn't turn to look at Draco, afraid of what he might have seen. "I'll change and fix the papers right now, better do it sooner than later." 

Hermione nodded. She patted his shoulder and turned to Draco with a sorrowful expression. 

"Draco, I …"

"Tell me what you need from me." 

*

There were papers to sign. Reports, depositions. Three civilians and a Auror killed on duty demanded justice and Hermione had just started her second term. 

Draco wrote patiently, filling up every report with details. Sometimes he felt his hand tremble and the quill slipping from his fingers. In those moments he closed his eyes, dominating the emotions. If he had acted on his feelings, if he rushed in the corridor and held Harry in his arms, he wouldn't be able to stop. Besides, his husband wasn't a man for sentimentality while on duty, not when he was needed by desperate mothers. 

When he felt too tired, Draco closed the office door behind him and reached the common room where the tea corner was. Peeking down the corridor, he saw Padma Patil sobbing on Harry's chest. 

"It's been like that for over thirty minutes now," Ron whispered behind him. He served himself a cup of tea and waited for two more. "I tried to get him out, to give Harry the chance to stay alone for a moment, to breathe. He didn't care for shortcuts." 

"You know Harry. The boy was a member of his team, he was his responsibility." 

"Yeah, I know. Let's see if I have better luck now." 

Draco stirred his tea and slowly walked back towards his office. In the corridor, he saw them again; the weeping woman, awkward Ron with the cups and Harry. He closed the door with a sigh. 

"For Salazar's sake, Malfoy! You look like a dead man walking," Blaise greeted him, while quickly browsing among the files stacked on his colleague's desk. 

"Thank you, Zabini. What the hell are you doing?" 

"The same as you. I'm getting ready for tomorrow's lynching." 

"There will be no lynching," Draco replied wearily. He sat back behind his desk and stared at his files. "Everything is reported and under lawful terms." 

"And you think that would stop the _Prophet_ or anyone else? Spare me, Draco! We must be more shrewd than them, more ruthless. And we definitely shouldn't look like walking corpses," he added, curling his nose. "Is the _Merciful Saviour of the Wizarding World_ keeping you awake at night?" 

"Don't call him that, especially not now. It's Harry's job that keeps me awake, not Harry." 

"You could have asked him not to go…"

"I did," Draco retorted. "But he's the Head of the Auror team and it's his responsibility to watch for them," he summoned two glasses and a bottle of Firewhisky, pulled a box of chocolates out of his drawer. Blaise smiled. "Every now and then, I ask myself… maybe it's because I'm a Slytherin and he's a Gryffindor. We have two opposite codes of behaviour and we can't really understand each other in times like these…" 

"Ginny is a Gryffindor and I can assure you that she always understands me." 

Draco bent his lips in a sardonic smile. 

"Ginny is not the Merciful Saviour of the Wizarding World." 

They ate a couple of chocolates and drank Firewhisky until Blaise left. Draco chose to go back to his papers, fell asleep with the quill in his hand. 

*

Draco was running in the garden between lilies and wild roses. His parents, Lucius and Narcissa, were waiting for him at the end of the path, where the branches met the sun. 

Harry was waiting for him. Behind him, above him. Everywhere around, yet too far to be touched. _‘Come closer'_ , Draco wanted to say, but his husband was ahead of him and he was too slow in his running, too small. Somewhere a cat roared and Draco remembered Hera calling from him and… 

He woke up, startled, one hand pressed against his left cheek. 

"You fell asleep," Harry explained, staring at him intensely. "I didn't want to scare you." 

Draco looked around, rubbing his hands against his closed eyes in an attempt to regain focus quickly. When he felt lucid enough, he turned to his husband knelt down next to him, eyes wide open and full of worry. 

"They decided… the funeral will be at ten o'clock," he explained, bowing his head like the most miserable man on Earth. Draco's heart clenched inside his chest. That was the hard core of Harry's pain, the place where even he wasn't allowed. 

"We should prepare," he tried, voice still hoarse from sleep. 

Harry nodded. He got back on his feet, when the door opened. 

"Excuse me! I'm very sorry," Blaise said, sounding indifferent and unapologetic. "I wanted to make sure everyone knew and was on board with the plan. The Head Auror will speak at the funeral, so… you both know now for sure," he added, closing the door. 

Harry's cheeks became redder. 

*

"You want him to hold a public speech. You want Harry, Harry Potter, to speak in public!" Draco exclaimed, livid with anger and astonishment. He stared at the mirror in front of him as if he wanted to break it with his own eyes. 

_"Calm down, hottie!"_ the Mirror puffed. _"It's not my fault!"_

"It is mine," Hermione replied, turning to look at her friend. Needles and meters flew around her and the dressmaker knelt at her side. "Draco, you must know that Blaise thinks…" 

"And now we're listening to what Blaise thinks! I can't believe it! Since when in this Ministry someone cares about Zabini?" 

Hermione exhaled a tired sigh. A needle got stuck in her left sleeve and the dressmaker looked perplexed. She raised her wand the fixed both needle and sleeve. 

"I'm sorry, Draco! I truly am!" 

"I don't care about your apologies," he snarled back, paler than usual in his whole black ceremonial robe. "You know how difficult it is for him… and you're asking him to speak in public all the same. And because Zabini said so!" 

The dressmaker raised her eyes, scared, and tried to fix the robes as quickly as she could. 

"That's not the way, dear," Hermione whispered to her. "It's not because of Zabini, of course!" she continued, raising her voice and glaring at him. 

"Of course not!" 

"We think… well, me and Ron anyway, but we know Harry since we were children and… ouch, darling! Please, that's quite… it's alright, truly. I'll take care of it myself, I promise! I was saying… we believe it could be good for Harry, too." 

"Good for Harry, too," Draco parroted, frowning. "Good for Harry, too?" 

"Don't look at me like I've just grown a spare head… I'm serious, Draco! I know it's hard for Harry, especially talking about his feelings and having to deal with situations like that. But, for once, I think we could try to… to let him have a moment of open and honest expression of sorrow." 

"Open and honest… people don't care about those." 

"Really, don't they?" Hermione sighed. "Maybe… maybe they don't or maybe they do. And Harry needs to let it go, just from time to time, he needs it." 

"Not in public, not like this…"

"Padma asked." 

Draco shut his mouth, bit on his lower lip. 

"I understand." 

Hermione widened her arms, chin trembling. 

"I know it's hard for him and I promise you that if he really doesn't want to talk, then he won't have to. But I think he can and Padma needs to hear from him." 

"Alright, I suppose. I'll tell Harry about this and help him with the speech. She's asking too much from him." 

"Draco!" 

"She is!" the solicitor replied. "I don't care how insensitive you think I am by saying it out loud!" 

"She lost a son." 

"And if she wants to put the blame on my husband, I will see her in court." 

*

Since the funeral was scheduled for the same morning, Harry chose not to leave the Ministry. He showered in the staff bathroom and changed inside his office, where he wrote the eulogy for the fallen boy. 

"I should change the first line, don't you think? The beginning… it sounds so daft, so casual. And there's that bit where I talk about me... why do I even talk about myself?" he asked, tossing parchment and quill away. 

Draco grabbed them, read the speech and made some instant adjustments. 

"The speech is fine," he said, approaching Harry who was struggling with the buttons on his uniform. "Here, let me do it," he whispered, starting to button up the jacket. 

The uniform was pine green, with gold and silver decorations and a deep black tie. Draco's fingers twisted the tie and the velvet tissue covering his husband's arms. 

"I should toss everything in the bin and start over." 

"You won't," he replied, carefully. "Harry, this is your anxiety talking. The speech is perfect and you don't have to think about it any longer." 

"I talk about myself." 

"That's what other people want to hear," Draco whispered, patting his chest tenderly. "They want to know that you cared, that you really can understand." 

"It's not me… I didn't lose a son…"

"You lost a member of your team." 

The Head Auror clenched his jaw and exhaled noisily, shutting his eyes. 

"The knot is too tight," he murmured, flatly. "Could you loosen it a bit?" 

"Of course." 

Draco's fingers came to his neck, long and pale against green and black. Harry licked his lips. 

"Sometimes I think… sometimes I think I'm becoming them." 

"Who?" 

"Snape and… _Dumbledore _."__

____

____

Draco stilled, then kept on working on the knot. 

"They were the men who shaped me," Harry explained. "The ones who trained me for war. Dumbledore especially. He knew that every great cause demands sacrifices and he accepted it as true. The greater good should give meaning to senseless, individual losses," as he uttered these words, his mouth turned into a sore grimace. "That's disgusting." 

"It is, and you don't believe a word of what you just said," Draco replied, as gently as possible. "I know how you feel about other people dying, I know you would do anything to stop them getting hurt…" 

"Still I'm different from the boy I was, I took this power and I've changed with it." 

"So does every one of us. But you're the same at core, Harry! The men who shaped you… Dumbledore or even Snape… they were utilitarian. You are the opposite of it, you care for each one of your Aurors." 

Draco touched his husband's cheek, ever so gently but with decision, raised his chin and studied what he saw in the green eyes. He had learned Harry's moods like the palms of his own hands. 

"Let's get ready, shall we?" he smiled and turned to fetch his scarf. 

"When they broke in… I let him go outside. I shouldn't have done that, I felt it as I gave him the order. He was a good Auror, but not the best and he was useless at fighting at close range." 

"So what do you believe you should've done?" 

"Go first myself," Harry declared. 

Draco pressed his knuckles against the table. 

"See? This is where you always lose me," he muttered, tight-lipped. "Your unnecessary, pointless guilt trips. They bore me. It was Ritchie's job to follow orders and fight and die. He was a grown man and he knew the risks of being an Auror. He certainly didn't expect for his boss to fix his every mistake." 

"What do you know about what he expected?" 

"Because I have common sense!" Draco spat, turning to his husband with his face strained by fury. "You can't be responsible for everyone else's behaviour and no one asks you to! Yet you keep doing that, putting yourself on trial!" he took a deep breath. "I've read the reports and I know that you followed the protocol. You did what you were supposed to do, on every occasion. It was Ritchie, Richard… whatever the hell his name was! It was his mistake to step outside the perimeter. I won't continue discussing this any longer." 

"He's dead." 

"And I'm sorry for him and for his family! But there's nothing to be done about it!" 

"You don't understand," Harry whispered, mouth still curved in disgust. 

"Don't I, now?" 

"No, you don't. You can't. You only see it from your narrow point of view." 

"So do you!" Draco retorted. "Collect your notes, we need to go." 

*

The ceremony was short and the Minister for Magic's speech even more so. Hermione Granger was holding back her tears like a proper, good as it gets Gryffindor. 

Draco crossed his legs. He was sitting on the first row, next to his husband, in the small cemetery lit by a timid sun that hid over the clouds from time to time. His face was serious and impenetrable. 

"And now it's time for the Head Auror's speech. Harry?" Hermione called, blushing as she wiped a tear from her eye. 

He rose from his seat and went to take her place next to the coffin. He looked as beautiful and patrician as a white hippogriff. When he stepped on the speaker's spot, Padma hooked on his right arm and Harry held her against his chest without thinking. The gesture was widely reported by a Prophet journalist who was disguised as a pigeon at the ceremony. Everything with Blaise's blatant consent. He had a true talent for selling the right image of the Ministry. 

After Harry's speech, the funeral was over and they finally went home. 

*

"Draco, listen to me…"

They had just crossed the Floo, entering their living room. 

"I won't," he replied, taking off his coat and dark velvet gloves. 

He went to the kitchen, where there were leftovers of his latest meal scattered on the table. He heard a cough and rushed to the stove corner. 

"Oh Hera, you silly girl!" Draco exclaimed, kneeling beside the cat who was busy vomiting a fine cooked meal. "What did you do?" 

"She must have eaten the soufflé," Harry pointed out. "She always gets sick when she eats soufflé." 

"I see that, thank you," He puffed. "Let me see what I can do," he whispered, taking the suffering cat in his arms and performing a healing spell. He felt a great contraction in Hera's stomach and then she raised her paw and tried to claw at his wand. "There you are, good girl! There you are," he smiled, kissing her head. 

"Draco… can I help? Can we talk?" 

"There's no need, truly," he said, without turning to his husband. His tone was soft, almost tender, therefore more dangerous and sharp. He was determined to create a void made of silence and distance between himself and the one who had wounded him. 

"I'm sorry that I behaved like a tosser with you, I…"

"I continue to hear your voice when what I want to hear is just silence." 

The first exchange of what might have been a fierce fight were interrupted by the appearance of Ron's silvery jack russell. The Patronus materialised on the window and gilded gently in front of them. 

_"Come to the Ministry! The werewolves are in the building!"_

*

"We don't know how they did it… well, we do know, but we have no proof whatsoever. He must have been the traitor who had allowed their access inside the castle. He came back and tried to complete his task." 

"Tell me his name, Ron," Harry growled, stepping inside the elevator and screaming their destination. "If it's one of mine, I want to look him in the eyes before sending him to Azkaban for the rest of his life!" 

Draco was behind him, uninterruptedly browsing report pages. 

"You say the werewolves are inside, but there's no trace of the accomplice," he said, adjusting the glasses on his nose. 

Ron nodded. 

"And this report says that… Harry, you followed the standard procedure." 

"You've already said that, Draco. I'm not dwelling on past mistakes at the moment." 

"No, no!" his husband exclaimed. "You followed the standard procedure! From the first attack to the last. So when the werewolves tried to kill their victims for the first time, you responded with the actions suggested by the procedure; two Aurors ahead, one to cover and the other to attack back." 

"Me and Ritchie, we were the ones…"

"But some survivors argued that there were three Aurors! How I could not see it before?" he grinned, pleased by his own cleverness. "I need to go into my office and retrieve some papers. I'll see you later!" he announced, blocking the elevator. 

Harry grabbed his arm before he could step out of it. 

"Be careful," he whispered, holding him still. "Be careful, please." 

"You too." 

*

Draco opened the office door and rushed in towards his desk. As expected, Blaise had made a mess of the documents creating a hell of stacked papers. 

"I'll have to hex his balls, next time he walks in," Draco muttered to himself, trying to locate the survivors' testimonies. It was a yellow file, tied with a rubber band. "Here it is!" he cheered, leaning to the chair. "Here it is!" 

With his index finger, he searched for the names. He remembered an old woman and her granddaughter telling him about the third Auror and he was absolutely sure that…

" _John Pius Berry!_ The third Auror is called John Pius Berry," he muttered to himself, trying to remember the occasion he heard such peculiar name, Pius. Obviously, the name of someone related to the Auror in question, as often were second names in the Wizarding World, but who and where? 

Draco pressed a finger on his nose and started chanting. 

"Pius, Pius, Pius… I've heard that before..." 

"Sure you did. It was my uncle's name, the Minister for Magic Pius Thicknesse." 

He jumped on his feet, startled. The voice in the shadow was followed by the green light of an unforgivable curse that Draco parried bending his wrist. 

A wizard emerged from the shadows where he was hiding. He was a tall, slim wizard, with black hair and sharp blue eyes. Draco recognised his resemblance to the man he saw in the Manor years before. 

"Draco Malfoy, you lurid turncoat. You should remember him!" 

"I apologise. At the time of the War, I was more concerned with the observation of smarter, greater wizards than an insignificant puppet under the Imperius Curse." 

"How dare you!" the traitor shouted, cursing him once again. This time parry it was less easy. "My uncle was a great man, an innocent man, and this Ministry destroyed him!" 

"You should send an owl to Granger about that, not try to kill innocent employees like me." 

"Lurid, unworthy vermin!" 

Defend and attack; a new curse shining bright inside the office. Draco had lost his touch with magic duels and he started to feel the fatigue of his struggle. 

"I will enjoy seeing Head Auror Potter crying over your corpse!" 

Another attack. Draco retreated until he sensed the wall behind his back. He swallowed, concentrating all his energies in the defense sequence. Berry was grinning. 

"Look at you! Do you believe you've proven your strength to me? I'm a trained Auror, I didn't even break a sweat!" he muttered a curse and Draco bounced back against the wall, whimpering in pain. "I'm going to enjoy this! Tear you apart very slowly and then kill you." 

Trapped, pain radiating from his shoulder, Draco closed his eyes and waited for the inevitable. That didn't come. 

There was a roar followed by an explosion. Berry's wand hovered in the air as his body leaped a couple of feet away and crashed against the statue of a goblin at the bottom of the room. Draco slipped on the wall, his back wet with cold sweat. 

"Draco, I'm here!" he tried to catch on his husband's voice, the familiar hands pressed on his chest and cheeks. "Are you hurt, love? Are you hurt?" 

He opened his eyes, focusing on the green ones in front of him. 

"N-no… no. I'm fine, Harry. I'm fine." 

He was pulled in a tight, almost painful hug and felt his husband's lips pressed against his temple, his relieved sobs suffocated on the back of his neck. He looked up to see Ron and two Aurors handcuffing his attacker. 

"Everything's alright, huh?" 

*

The bathtub was slowly filling with hot water. Hera inclined her head, following the vapor trail that went up to the ceiling. 

"I think you should go out now," Draco whispered, leaning down to caress her. "You know, humans love privacy for these sort of activities." 

The cat moaned and pressed her head against the hand petting her. Suddenly the door opened and she slipped over the legs of her other master, running away. 

"Hey!" Harry walked in, careful not to stumble on the cat. He was carrying clean towels and a bottle of healing salve. "She always runs away when I come in," he noticed, looking at Hera moving quickly in the shadows. "I'm sorry, you probably wanted to cuddle her some more." 

"I did ask for some privacy," Draco replied with a smile. "I don't mind Hera's presence at all but sometimes… sometimes she seems to understand too much, like her gaze could read inside me… it doesn't matter. Close the door, will you?" 

Harry did, and reached over the sink beside the bathtub to place the towels upon it. 

"I charmed them to feel warm." 

"Thank you." 

"And I brought you something for the pain," he added, pointing at the ointment bottle. "I can help you with it, if you want." 

Draco looked around as if searching for the correct answer on the white tiles. 

"Alright, but I… I don't look at the top of my form and…"

"Please, let me help you." 

Grey eyes widened, a silent nod. Draco turned toward the bathtub, leaned in to stop the water flowing and checked the temperature. The water was warm enough to make his skin flush. He straightened up, undid the knot of his bathrobe revealing his pale naked body. A big bruise was quickly darkening on his right shoulder and neck. He felt his husband suck in a breath. 

_"You should see the other guy,"_ he tried to joke, clawing to the edge of the bathtub and stepping in. 

Harry was behind him instantly, offering a trembling support. 

"That bastard," he muttered through clenched teeth. He waited for Draco to lie against the white surface of the tub, until his chest was partially submerged and the water almost reached his bent knees. 

"You have him, don't you? That's all that matters. I don't think Azkaban will discharge this guy very soon." 

"Not on my watch," Harry replied. He took a pause, then spoke again. "Can I help you or do you want me to go? You said you wanted some privacy." 

"I can't really move my right arm at the moment," Draco confessed, looking up nervously. "It hurts when I try, I suppose it's the consequence of the hit. I can't wash my hair." 

"I can wash it for you." 

Harry removed the black cardigan he was wearing on top of a white shirt and rolled up his sleeves. He took a basin filled with warm water and immersed a sponge in it, then squeezed the sponge over his husband's head, mindful of his eyes and nose, carefully massaging the scalp under his fingertips. He stroked the hair and repeated the action slowly and carefully. 

"Harry, you should take off the elastic…"

"Right!" he whispered, unlacing the ribbon at the end of Draco's braid. When his hair was wet it seemed more luminous, though the braided locks were a bit more resistant to his fingers. "Am I hurting you?" 

"No, no…"

Harry undid the braid and ran his fingers through his husband's long hair. 

"Do you think I should cut it? It's a bit annoying, maybe…" 

"Don't. I love your hair," he said, pressing his lips against a wet forehead. 

Draco closed his eyes. 

His shoulder was almost brown, with purple swollen veins emerging like rivers on a map, and Harry could see a long red slash on his shoulder blade. 

"I'm sorry he did this to you…"

"Don't," Draco replied. "Don't apologise like you're… it's just bruises, it will heal. Harry, don't look at me like I was the victim," he added. 

His husband stilled, searching for his eyes. 

"You protect victims," Draco explained. "You sacrifice yourself for them in a way you won't ever do for others, but you also feel pity for them and you find it hard to love them." 

"I don't find it hard to love victims…"

"You do. And you're doing it now, with me. You didn't want to see me like that." 

"That doesn't make sense." 

"You came back and you didn't even care to talk to me!" Draco exclaimed. "I was so worried about you, so frightened at the idea that something could have happened to you. When I heard about the Auror… for a moment, I pictured you. Still and cold and lost forever. It could have been you! And I did everything I could to avoid it. But you had to save everyone first and you despise intimacy during critical moments. I should have known that there was no place for me in the aftermath. I should have known… I've known you all these years." 

The confession, the hard silence that followed, was like vapour filling the room. Draco took a deep breath and straightened his back. Harry stood still, the sponge on his hand. 

"I don't hate intimacy like that." 

"Yes you do," Draco insisted, staring at him. "Especially when it's me. You're so strong for the others, but you can't bear to be strong for me. You get tired and bitter, you keep me away." 

The sponge fell on the tiles. 

"But you're such a good partner most of the time and I can't expect you to change. I accepted you as you were, when I married you." 

"So that's it? You have doubts about… you have doubts about our marriage?" 

Draco rolled his eyes. 

"Oh Harry, how could I? Don't you see that I'm yours?" 

"But you just said that…"

"In every marriage there are happy moments and less happy ones. We should be reasonable with what we consider achievable and patient. To have and to hold implies that too." 

"That's such a miserable consideration. Teachings of dear Lucius and Narcissa?" 

"It's not my fault I have two parents who loved each other and loved me and gave me their best advices on married life!" 

"I wasn't trying to imply… I didn't mean it like…"

"Of course you did, I know your tone." 

Harry knelt in front of the tub, pressed his forehead against the cold edge and shut his eyes. Then he looked up to an outraged Draco, who was trying to keep his composure through a fight in a bathroom. He felt the familiar vice of guilt. 

"I want to always see you happy," he confessed. "Even if I know it's practically impossible. I can't stand to see you upset, Draco." 

"I know." 

"And I wish I was a better husband, you deserve it." 

Draco put a wet hand on his arm. He kept his gaze steady before turning to his side. Harry's eyes were red. 

"I'm so fucked up, love. I don't know how I can stop being like this." 

"Harry…"

"I really am sorry…"

"No," Draco murmured, turning completely towards him. He held Harry's face between his hands, pressed his nose against a cheek and his wet lips against dry ones. He kissed again and again, until he was grasping for Harry and fighting the slippery damp, until his right shoulder was hurting but he couldn't care less. 

*

Harry helped Draco out of the tub and pressed two fingers of ointment over his bruises, massaging the wounded skin. His shirt and trousers were soaked, and with his right arm he was holding his husband close. 

Draco's clean skin smelled of lemons and he couldn't bend over much, so Harry knelt in front of him and pressed the softness of the towels around his thighs, staring at the hard cock in front of his nose. He licked and kissed the tip with casual tenderness, stealing a frustrated groan. He kept drying and massaging his husband's legs, and the spot between his buttocks. Soon, Draco was resting his hands on Harry's shoulders and rocking his hips. 

They slowly walked together into their room. Harry tossed the damp shirt in a corner along with the rest of his clothes and leaned over Draco, who was already supine on the bed, and he took his cock in his mouth. 

Draco stretched his arms, grabbing the wooden headboard with his eyes closed, overwhelmed by the sweetness of pleasure. Harry was sucking him slowly, alternating the quick strokes of his tongue and the hot grasp of his palate and throat, delaying the orgasm as much as he could. Draco's legs widened of their own accord, and his muscles started shaking. He began to whine pitifully thrusting his hips forward. 

Harry was holding the base of his erection with a hand and keeping him still with the other, while staring at his face intently. Only when he saw a big tears wetting his husband's cheek, he let go of his vicious grip and let him come in the warmth of his mouth. Draco sobbed gratefully, riding electrical waves of pleasure. When his heartbeat slowed down and he felt almost too spent to move, a finger slipped inside him. 

*

The covers were on the floor and Harry was inside Draco. He was pushing slowly into the body beneath him, pliant and sensitive, still tender from the orgasm. Draco was holding Harry close, searching in his desperate eyes. 

"I wish I could share this ugly part of me, this damaged part I don't want anyone to see. I don't know how to… how to…" 

He groaned and buried his head in the hollow of Draco's neck, who tightened his arms and legs around him and pressed his open mouth against his jaw. 

"You're so good to me, Harry. So good…" 

He thrusted in again, more forcefully, and held Draco's face in his hand, licked the corner of his lips and the graceful line of his profile. 

"I need you so fucking much…"

"I'm here, I'm here..." 

They held each other tightly, feeling the strain of their tense muscles. Harry pushed in more and more, as if he wanted to bury himself completely inside Draco, come splashed between their pressed chests. They kept on holding onto each other until the tremors ceased. Draco loosened his grip on Harry's back and felt him detaching, almost crying out at the pain of his loss. 

Harry stood on his arms. He grabbed the wand and pointed it against Draco's spread legs, whispering the necessary spells to cleanse and soothe. His husband mewled and closed his eyes. Suddenly they were way too tired to talk more, the heavy burden of days spent in pain and anxiety felt inhuman to bear. Draco widened his arms and let his husband slide in his warm embrace. 

They fell asleep. 

*

He was awakened by the sound of something sharp rubbing against the sheets. Draco tried to tighten the grip on his pillow and ignore any noise, but his brain already felt very awake and his eyes snapped open. 

Hera was sitting on top of the sheets, right in front of him. She was busy cleaning her paw with skill and meticulous care. 

"Sweet girl," Draco smiled. "What are you doing here? Where's Harry?" 

The cat raised her head for a split second, then went back to the paw cleaning. 

"Did he wake up and go out?" 

Hera stopped her cleaning routine and jumped off the bed, moving quickly towards the door. Draco sighed. 

He put on his dressing robe and went to the kitchen. Harry was there and he was placing a plate full of pancakes on the dining table. He turned around. 

"Good morning." 

"Good morning. I see you made breakfast," Draco pointed out, gesturing at the pancakes and teacup on the table. 

"Yes, for you," Harry pressed a kiss on his cheek. He went back to the cookers and spelled their surfaces clean, before putting the used pan under the water. 

Draco grabbed the fork, feeling slightly dazed. 

"Did Hera eat too?" 

"Yes. I went to buy the salmon treats she likes so much. I couldn't seem to find any of her usual food under the bin." 

"That's because I changed its position," Draco explained. "She was getting too smart and starting to feed herself after discovering the place we hide it in. I had to come up with another solution. You know what the vet says about overweight cats!" 

"I do," Harry grinned, washing up and putting the pan away. "She's such a clever little shit, though." 

"Don't remind me." 

Draco was chewing on his breakfast when Harry sat down next to him. He was looking frighteningly serious and Draco swallowed the bite and looked up at him. 

"What's wrong?" 

"You do read me so well," the husband smiled. "I was working up the courage to talk to you about this but… somehow I couldn't find it. And then this whole thing with Ritchie happened and you… I meant what I said last night." 

"Harry, you don't have to…"

"But I do, don't you see? You're the love of my life, the man I married, and I have to be there for you. I truly just want to see you happy." 

Draco placed a hand on his wrist and Harry showed him a letter with the Hogwarts crest. 

"I have a job offer," he said. "The Headmistress… she offered me the place as DADA teacher. I've toyed with the idea since the day she asked me first." 

"Which was?" 

"A month ago?" 

Draco pursed his lips. 

"I know, I know! Should have told you about that! It's just… I was worried to even consider it…" 

"Why?" 

"People die everyday, Draco. Aurors like Ritchie, boys even younger than him. If I can do something to stop it… shouldn't that be my ultimate goal? To prevent more pain and loss?" 

"Oh Harry…"

"Please, don't start with the Saviour complex. I've already heard that too many times in my life." 

"I won't, my darling." 

Harry giggled at the sound of the nickname. He closed his eyes and basked on the ghostly warmth of Draco's lips on his forehead. 

"I want to help people, to make them safe, but I don't know if I can bear anymore violence. I don't think I can." 

"That's fair." 

"So… there's the DADA job and I think… I want to accept it." 

Draco leaned against his seat, without removing his hand from Harry's. 

"Have you talked about it with Granger? She's the Minister now and your closest friend along with _Weasley the first_." 

"Don't call him that, and yes I have. I have told her and she understands." 

"Does she? I figured she wanted you by her side…"

"She will always have me by her side," Harry said, now kneeling in front of his husband, getting closer and closer. "Always. Hermione and Ron are my best friends, the first family I've ever had… but you're mine now." He caressed the curve on Draco's jaw. "I didn't want to consider the Hogwarts job because it also implied a forced distance from you and I couldn't stand it. But I now have the confirmation that they need a Potions teacher as well, and you would be perfect for the job." 

"Me?" 

"Yeah," Harry grinned. "You're great at making healing balms even when it's not your job and you manage to work with everything you have at your disposal. You really are that good." 

"That's very flattering…"

"But I was concerned," Harry continued, caressing his knuckles with the tip on his thumb. "You're a great solicitor. You have an established career and…" 

_"Yes."_

"What?" 

"Yes," Draco repeated. "Let's go back to Hogwarts! Let's be professors together." 

Harry's eyes shone in joy. 

"But… I was talking about your career? I don't want you to sacrifice your dreams for me." 

"And I'm not, honestly!" His husband said, wrinkling his nose. Anytime he did that, he still resembled the pointy, snobbish pale boy Harry had met in a shop decades ago. He loved him so. "I want to go away… I _need_ to go away. With you. We can have a fresh start far from the Ministry rubbish and your tendency to put yourself in mortal peril." 

"That's because Hogwarts is usually the safest place on Earth." 

"Stop it, you uncouth fool! I love your idea." 

Harry jumped up to bury his nest of a head against his husband's neck and chest. He kissed his favorite spots and looked at the letter. 

"We can start working as soon as we're done packing and everything else. They really are happy to see us accept." 

"Are mysterious murders happening at the moment?" 

Harry laughed fully and arched his back, kissing the lips sloping down upon his. 

A box of cereal fell on the ground. Hera was climbing on the shelves, balancing herself on a thin wooden surface. 

"We'll need to monitor her constantly," Draco whispered, holding his husband close. "Hera at Hogwarts… I can only imagine the amount of trouble she will bring on us." 

"Because we'll have to defend the other cats and animals?" 

"Don't … shut up!" 

Harry smiled dreamily. 

"You're so brilliant, my Draco. Do you want to go back to bed and cuddle some more?" 

"I would love that." 

They jumped on their feet and proceeded to the bedroom, leaving Hera still on the top shelves, cleaning her paws inconspicuously. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! You can show your appreciation for the author in a comment here or on [livejournal](https://hd-erised.livejournal.com/90327.html). ♥
> 
> This story is part of an on-going anonymous fest hosted at hd_erised @ livejournal.com. The author will be revealed January 8th.


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